The Taming of the Shrew
A highly loose interpretation of the Shakespearean classic involving Bishop and Bobby
He was tired of her prissiness. So, so tired. "As long as it's not in a restaurant!" Her dismissive "C'mon detective let's go!" while he was observing the patterns of moonlight at a crime scene. He almost enjoyed faux choking her at the poor gamer's home. He loved the look of fear on her face. But one night in a van while they were on stakeout he could take it no more.
"I've just about had it with you, Bishop!" he exploded when she was questioning his observance of the moon and its traces on the ground. "You make think this is silly, but I know it's relevant to the crime !"
"Well forgive me for not following your lead this once detective! I might not have been in school a thousand years but I know a little something too!"
"Like what?" How to bump into me repeatedly?"
"Well if you didn't have such big feet it wouldn't be a problem!"
"More like your insane need to not get left in my dust!"
"Oh you think you're so great! Just because I am not Eames doesn't mean I don't have skills too!"
"Oh please! You wouldn't have lasted a week in the strip club!"
"Yeah? Well you can guess where to shove the glow stick!"
And then out of nowhere as if Zeus himself directed him to do it he kissed her. Hard and long. He stuck his tongue down her throat, the same one that croaked out shrewisms day in and day out for the last few weeks. To his shock, she kissed back. Their tonsil hockey did not abate. Rather, it turned into a raging inferno.
He quickly made haste of her shirt. Delicately, of course, a little prig like her would be sure to complain about missing a button, even in the heat of passion. He stuck his hand in her peach lace bra, grabbing a handful and kneeding the scant tissue between his thumb and his forefinger. She reached up to rain his face in kisses, like daisy petals on the wind, not the artless brillo pad he expected. He undid her ponytail, and the red silk surprised him the way it framed her face, how much he wanted to smell it. What was that, Herbal Essence she was using?
He reached up her skirt and pulled down her panties and quickly stuck his finger in- my god, you could make paste! Who knew this frigid little thing was capable of generating so much heat? She moved up against his finger, arching herself back and forth, barely keeping composure.
"Enough!" he declared, for once not taking a woman's wishes into consideration.
He unleashed himself, and none too soon. As much as he hated it, this toothsome wench had him throbbing. Apparently she couldn't wait either, grabbing his arrow and directing it toward her center. It is amazing how those things had minds of their own, she thought, as it knew just where to go, how to operate when it found the spot. He pushed inside deeper and deeper, until soon she couldn't have said her own name if she had to. The surveillance team could have discovered them and she couldn't have stopped. He, was also this close to turning to mush, and not his heart either. Oh god, has it been so long I can barely keep up with her ? Finally her tightness and her wetness, the way she nearly strangled him with her legs, got to him. "Bish.. Bishop!" "Bobby!" she cried as she rounded the bend. No man had ever made her come like that before, NOMAN.
Soon, their bodies softened, and their postures followed suit. They barely looked at each other, pausing to regroup and catch their breath. She leaned over the side, her cookie barely able to come down from such a riding. His own member returned to its regular size. "Well, we gave new meaning to "If the van's a rockin," he said. "We sure did. Now where were we?" Wanting to get back to work but also relieved to have been cured of her frigidity, she still rolled in ecstacy. He would never say it, but he wasn't as eager for Eames to return to work as he was.